


Gin and Tonic

by Isnt_It_Strange (Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 3 periods of time, Angst, Arguments, Developing Relationship, Eventual relationship, Friendship, I dunno what to tag?, Insomnia, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Not quite a slowburn, Spideypool - Freeform, They aren't together in C1, They will be eventually, Timeskips, Tony Stark is alive, When Peter is older, because reasons, peter is not okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage/pseuds/Isnt_It_Strange
Summary: Two times when Peter isn't okay and one time Wade isn't.Or; Peter Parker has struggled since the events of Endgame. He can't sleep, he can't eat, the pressure of being the same Spiderman as he was before the dusting is weighing down on him. When Wade comes to join him on patrol he can't hold back anymore. Words are said, tensions rise and Wade has had enough.It takes a while for lessons to be learned.





	Gin and Tonic

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first dabble into Spideypool before a much larger project (alongside Play For Me) is taking over my life. :) 
> 
> This fic is going to be 3 snapshots over the next few years of Peter's life. By the end he will be about 23, just a heads up! Spideypool is the end game (hah! Too soon?) so I hope you guys enjoy.
> 
> Until next time!

“Baby boy, I brought chimis!” 

Deadpool hopped up onto the roof with bag in hand, grinning beneath his mask as he gave a dramatic  _ oof  _ for his efforts. Reaching a hand up he pulled off the crimson mask and breathed in the night air, catching his breath before straightened his back and began to approach the other hero. It was then he noticed Peter staring at him, maskless, and rather pale.

“Pete?”

Peter's face was frozen, his usually bright eyes dull and lining with tears. A beat passed before his bottom lip quivered, his expression crumpling into one of utter devastation. The first broken sob came from deep within his chest, a wretched sound that rasped on his lungs and left a burn in his throat. 

“Woah, hey, Petey-Pie,” Wade approached carefully, not wanting to spook the other man as he came closer. “This is kind of a late reaction to my ugly mug, eh?”

“Shut  **up** , Wade!” Peter snapped through his tears, glaring at him before his hands came to cover his face. God, what a mess he was. “You have  **no** idea!”

“Well of course I don't, and won't, until you tell me!” 

**Maybe he's sick?**

_ That or he's just being a brat. _

Before Wade had the chance to tell Yellow or White that their input was heard but unvalued (thanks but no thanks!) he felt a firm weight sink against his chest. There was a grunt from the sudden pressure but quickly the merc had enough sense to place his hands on the webslinger’s shoulders to keep him upright. 

“Baby boy, I'm gonna need you to fill me in because as much as I can utterly destroy the fourth wall I can't read the future of this right here.” Carefully he curled his finger beneath Peter's chin and pulled his face upward, their eyes locking. “Do I need to hurt somebody?”

A fist thumped lightly against his chest.

“I'll… take that as a no?” 

**We don't know that yet!**

_ Maybe he's dying? _

“Bit morbid, don't you think?” Wade grumbled, “shut up and let him talk.”

Peter sniffled and wiped at his eyes, wincing at the burning behind them. It was only now that they were so close that Wade could see the bags under his eyes, the clear signs of exhaustion making worry curl in his gut and explode into fireworks and sparklers. As chaotic as a glitter bomb, just decidedly less amazing.

“Nobody hurt me, Pool… Not since last patrol.” 

That had been a pain in their asses collectively, but Peter had come out of it with a gunshot wound and hadn't healed as quickly as usual. Stark was still trying to work out why. 

“I'm just- it's just-- things are so  **hard** right now, you know?!” The words burst from Peter's chest and he tore his head away to look down over the edge of the rooftop. “Since things went down with Thanos I just  **can't** .” He gulped, noticing Wade was giving enough silence for him to keep going. “I can't sleep without nightmares, I can't eat without it tasting like ash. It's been months, Wade,  **months** . It should be getting easier but it's not!”

Hands shaking from anxiety tangled into his hair, his grip becoming white knuckled. Peter almost didn't notice the fingers wrapping around his wrists, thumbs rubbing the back of his hands, trying to soothe him enough to let go as he choked on a sob. 

“Petey, listen to me. This shit is not going to get easier, not for a long time. Life is going to try to eat you a-fucking-live and you know what? It’ll keep trying to take you out until you grab it by the balls and tear them off in a show of strength. You've got to tear life apart in a display of dominance so that it knows it can't fuck with you no more.”

**Kick it to the curb!**

_ Sing happy days are here again! _

“You say that like it's so easy,” the younger man huffed, bitterness previously unheard of staining his voice. “It's so easy for you, Wade. You get to just breeze about by your own rules, you-.”

The grip on Peter's wrists tightened, a silent but nonetheless dangerous warning, the mercenary’s usually kind eyes suddenly all the darker and detached. 

**Who the fuck does he think he is?**

_ This little brat can't talk shit and not expect some kind of backlash. _

**Tear this fucker apart!**

“Now you listen very fucking closely, Parker. You have **no** fucking place to tell me what the fuck is easy and what isn't in **my** fucking life.” The grip tightened, Peter emitting a hiss as pain flared up his arms. “You think you've got it hard? Huh? You think that you've gotten the shittiest part of the shit stick? Wake up and smell the fucking coffee, all things considered you've had it **great** so far. Lucky you.” 

Peter’s eyes widened in growing distress as Wade took a step forward, forcing him backwards towards the rooftop edge. The tears had stopped in his shock, Wade’s swift change in demeanour causing his spidersenses to crackle with danger. He needed to calm Wade down quickly, either that or he was going to end up in a scrap he didn’t want any part in. 

“Wade, you know I didn’t-.” 

**What a backtrack.**

_ What a coward. _

“Didn’t what, Spiderman?” Wade smirked, though there was no genuine amusement to be found. It was cold, only seen when the merc with a mouth was feeling particularly cruel. Peter had only needed to see it once before. 

Once again they were backed towards the edge of the roof, his spidersenses going haywire at the potential for danger. Oh god, this was not a good idea. Why had he thought this was a good idea?! 

“Yes, you’ve had it hard. We all know how fucking shit life has treated you and you know what? I’ve tried to give you the sympathy you seem to crave. You want to know what I do when I’m feeling like you? You want to know **my** special little trick?” Another step and they were right at the edge of the roof, Wade looming over a now panicked Peter. For a minute they stood there, tension so tight it could snap between them, until the tightness in Wade’s grip slackened a touch.

“When life gives you lemons, Petey, what do you do?”

There was a palpable silence, one Peter wasn’t sure if he was meant to break.

“Come on Spiderman, you’re a smart guy. What do you think I’m gonna say? When life gives you lemons…?” 

“I’m-,” Peter took a deep breath, doing his best to steady his racing pulse and to meet Wade’s eye at the same time, “I’m going to reckon you don’t just make lemonade, do you?” 

There was silence once again, Wade turning his head and debating.

**He’s still a fucking brat.**

_ But he  is  Spiderman.  _

“Gin and tonic, Spideykins. When life gives you lemons, you... make a gin and tonic. That’s what good ol’ mama Wilson taught me. When life gives you the bitterest of lemons you make a gin and tonic, maybe two or three, and you knock that fucker back until things are less bitter and so so sweet.” 

As though a switch had been flipped, Wade suddenly had his usual smile back and he stepped away with a gentle pull on Peter’s suit to bring him back to safety. 

The look on the younger man’s face was a mix of anxiety, anger, and a vulnerability that Wade hadn’t really noticed at that moment. Once again he moved with caution, gently patting Peter on the shoulder before huffing and looking over the horizon.

“Maybe I’m not the best guy to talk about this with, Petey-pie. Try Irondad, that’s what the kids are calling him these days, right? Irondad?” He continued to look into the distance, raising a brow before shrugging and turning away.

“Wade, I-.”

Before Peter could comment further, Wade had begun to run to the edge of the building and hopped over the edge, a resulting thundering as he jumped from balcony to balcony echoing with the occasional  _ fuck  _ or  _ ow _ . 

What the  _ fuck _ just happened?


End file.
